


Between Friends

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [8]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Ending, Beating, Blokes & Lads Trash Party, Gang Rape, Groping, Luxury, Multi, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Other, St. Andrew's Cross, Stabbing, Suspension, Undercover, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Oscar has gone undercover before. He's been to places like this before. It doesn't make it any easier.Prompt: Gang Rape
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: October 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Between Friends

The building at the address Oscar was given was almost comically nondescript. He double checked the slip of paper, frowned up at the bland expanse of grey stone, and straightened his jacket with a faint sigh before rapping sharply at the front door.

A slot opened at eye level, just enough for someone to peer suspiciously at him. “Haven’t seen you here before,” said a voice.

“Usually I come with friends,” Oscar replied, and the slot slammed shut. For one agonizing heartbeat, he was left alone on the street, and then the door opened and a tall man dressed all in black gestured for him to come inside.

He was lead down a winding staircase, dark and derelict, just as dull as the building’s exterior, until the man opened the door at the bottom. The room it opened up into was windowless and opulent, dark hardwood floors and deep red wallpaper, lit by crystal sconces along the walls and one massive overhead chandelier. Gauzy curtains hung from the ceiling but provided no real privacy. There were overstuffed lounges along the walls, tables laden with champagne and hors d'oeuvres, and tables laden with things to sate _other_ appetites - leather flogs, lengths of silk rope, blindfolds, cock rings, dildos, any depravity one could name, all of the finest quality, all laid out and waiting.

Oscar plucked a champagne flute from a tray and wandered through the rooms wearing a mask of casual indifference.

The lengths of black gauze did serve a purpose after all, Oscar discovered. As open as the floor plan was, they were enchanted to keep sound from escaping the alcoves they were draped over.

He picked up on this by stepping through one and then nearly dropping his champagne glass at the sound of Hamid screaming.

He managed to keep his composure, draping himself across an armchair and watching a woman stalk around the saltire cross Hamid was tied to; she noticed him watching and offered him a smirk, extending her whip out for him. “You’re new,” she said. “Would you like a try? This one is _very_ responsive.”

Oscar made a dismissive gesture. “I would hate to interrupt a professional,” he said. “If I could observe?”

“I do love to show off,” the woman purred, and brought her whip down across Hamid’s back.

Oscar sipped his champagne to keep the fury from showing on his face, not that the woman would have noticed, enthralled as she was with making Hamid writhe. She grinned, vicious and bloodthirsty, with every desperate wail she drew from him; she laughed at the first slow drip of blood down his spine. She draped herself over him, one hand sliding up his leg to grope at his ass, the other tilting his chin up with the handle of her whip. “What a very good boy you are,” she crooned sweetly. “I hardly believe it’s your first time.”

Hamid sobbed weakly into the heavy blindfold he was wearing, and collapsed against the cross as she pulled away. The woman turned and tossed Wilde her whip; he caught it out of the air and arched an eyebrow at her. “Worked up an appetite,” she said. “Don’t waste all night watching, now.”

Oscar watched her go, counted to five, then stood, stretched languidly, and walked over to Hamid in a slow semi-circle, taking care to eye him up and down for the benefit of any onlookers. He leaned over him, humming under his breath, and ran a palm down his back, healing the worst of the damage. “Hamid,” he murmured, and Hamid let out a shuddering sob. “Shh,” he whispered. “We’re alone,” he said, glancing towards the curtains. People were walking by, but none seemed inclined to join them at the moment. He stroked a hand down Hamid’s side, just in case. “The others, are they - ”

“I - I don’t know,” Hamid said, keeping his voice admirably quiet, considering how shaky it was. “They separated us, I d-don’t know where they went, I - I think someone said they should gag C-Cel.”

Oscar breathed out carefully through his nose; someone was watching through the gauze. He buried his face in Hamid’s neck, brought his hands up to grip at his hips, ground his own hips forward. He didn’t think he had ever been this fucking flaccid in his life. “I don’t know if I can stay,” he breathed. “I’m going to get you out, I promise, but I need to find the others.”

“Go,” Hamid said bravely, setting his jaw. “I-I’ll be all right.”

The gauze parted; Oscar glanced at the man who had entered, at his hand gripping his cock through his clothes. “May I?” the man asked, eyeing Hamid hungrily.

Oscar stepped away reluctantly. “Be my guest,” he said. He stepped back, let his hand linger a moment on Hamid’s hip before the man all but shoved him aside, going to his knees and burying his face in Hamid’s ass without elegence or finesse. Hamid cried out, and Oscar slipped away, choking down guilt.

There were a few servants like the man who had greeted him at the door, though wearing significantly less than he had been, and Oscar pulled one of them aside. He went obediently still against the wall at the first brush of Oscar’s fingers against his wrist, tipping his head back to expose the collar around his neck. “I’ve heard rumors there’s a half-elf here tonight,” Oscar said, eyeing the long line of his throat. “Is that true?”

The servant smirked. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I got them ready myself. I can show you to them, if you like.”

“Lead the way.”

Cel wasn’t screaming when the curtain into their alcove was pulled away. They dangled from the ceiling, horizontal off the floor, mouth held open around a cruel metal gag. A small group had gathered around them, watching with everything from eager hunger to mild interest as two of their number toyed with them. Their eyes met Oscar’s and they made a brief noise before a cock was pressed into their open mouth.

The woman who had been whipping Hamid was settled on a settee against the wall and smiled as she recognized Oscar, beckoning him over. He went, forcing himself to stay pliant and relaxed as she leaned companionably against his side. “Did you have a good time with our halfling friend?” she asked, watching out of the corner of her eye as Cel squirmed uselessly between the two men fucking them.

Oscar forced himself to look away. “You were right,” he said blandly. “He was very responsive.” The woman laughed. “I never did get your name,” Oscar said, glancing down at the woman and then at Cel, gagging as the man fucking their mouth yanked them towards him.

The woman laughed again. “Oh, you _are_ new,” she said. “No need to be so forward, hm? You can just call me Mistress.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar watched Cel choke, come dripping from the corner of their mouth, a hand tangled tight in their hair to hold them still. He smiled and it tasted like ash. “Of course, Mistress,” he said. “I did want to ask where you find such” - (Cel cried out, briefly, before their mouth was taken once again) - “charming playthings. If it isn’t so forward.”

Mistress smiled slowly. “Can’t give away all my trade secrets,” she said. “Not on your first night.” Oscar nodded graciously. “Enjoy the show,” Mistress said, leaning back to watch Cel get fucked. “It isn’t every day we have elven blood here.”

Oscar made himself watch three more people do with Cel as they pleased, forced himself to stay languid and calm, trying to catch their eye, to convey some semblance of comfort. Then he stood, murmuring his thanks to Mistress, and excused himself.

Zolf and Azu. He just had to find Zolf and Azu, and then he could call for backup, and Barnes and Cater and Sasha and Grizzop would help him rip this place to its foundations. But first he had to make sure they were here.

Slipping out of the alcove, he found Azu almost immediately, on her knees before one of the overstuffed sofas. The man Oscar had left Hamid with had become attached, it seemed. He held Hamid in his lap and was gently coaxing Azu through sucking him off, murmuring praise while she seethed at him, arms behind her back, collar locked around her throat. Hamid sobbed weakly, still blindfolded, dripping come, cock soft and spent even as Azu licked at him. Oscar watched, unable to tear his eyes away; Azu caught his gaze, held it for a moment, then flickered her eyes to the left, quickly, before looking away again.

Oscar forced himself to look away, though he could still hear the man cooing over how lovely Hamid was, could still hear Hamid groaning and begging. The space Azu had focused her gaze was, to outer appearances, another alcove, empty behind its gauzy curtain. Oscar slipped into it, felt the faint pop of a magical barrier being permeated, and found himself staring down a flight of stairs. With one final glance over his shoulder - the man had hooked a hand in Azu’s collar, had tipped her head up to lick Hamid’s taste from her lips - he descended.

The luxury of the rooms above was absent here. The gleaming hardwood had given way to grey stone, crystal wall sconces to candlelight. As Oscar crept down the stairs, he began to hear voices, and the sick sound of a fist hitting flesh.

“ - learn some fucking manners,” a voice snarled. “Gonna go biting our guests, are you?”

Oscar peered around the corner just in time to see Zolf spit out a mouthful of blood. He was collapsed onto the stone floor, his legs gone, his eye swelling shut, his nose clearly broken. “Fuck you,” he growled, but his voice was ragged at the edges, worn down.

A man stepped into view, jerked him up off the floor to slam him up against the wall. “How about I take those teeth, if you can’t use them properly?” he asked. “You don’t fucking need them anymore, that’s not what you’re - ”

Oscar should have called for backup. Instead he found himself grabbing the man by the back of the neck, spinning him around, and slamming his head into the stone wall. It only took one good hit; he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, blood gushing from his head, and Oscar stood over him for a moment, breathing hard.

“Wilde?” Zolf mumbled, and Oscar went to his knees, easing Zolf into a sitting position. “Gods, you shouldn’t have done that,” he said, sagging in Oscar’s arms, eyes slipping closed. “Thanks, though.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Oscar said. He pressed a kiss to Zolf’s hairline, humming softly, and ran a thumb over Zolf’s nose as he healed it, listening to it crunch back into place. “The others are - well, upstairs. Bit someone, did you?” Oscar couldn’t help but smile slightly as he pulled the mobile stone from his jacket pocket and thumbed it to life.

Zolf huffed a laugh, looking wryly up at him. “Yeah, I - _shit, Wilde - !”_

It took a moment, for the heat radiating through his side to register in Oscar’s brain as _pain,_ and he made a sound of more surprise than of hurt as a hand wound into his hair and pulled him backwards, away from Zolf, further onto the knife in his back. A slender hand plucked the mobile stone from him.

“I was so hoping you were here in good faith, Mr. Wilde,” Mistress said in his ear. Oscar blinked rapidly, his breath coming in ragged gasps; Zolf was cursing, struggling to get close to them. Mistress gestured, and two men entered the room to pin Zolf’s arms to his sides. She shoved Oscar forward to sprawl on the floor at their feet. “Have the dwarf heal him, then get them both upstairs,” she said lazily. “I think we’ll have to make a public demonstration tonight.”

In her hand, the mobile stone crackled. “Wilde?” Grizzop’s voice said. “Oi, you there? You rang?”

Mistress eyed the mobile stone, licking blood from her dagger as Oscar and Zolf were dragged away. “I’m so sorry,” she said sweetly, “there’s been a mixup. Mr. Wilde is no longer in need of your services.”

“Who are - ”

She dropped the stone to the floor and crushed it beneath her heel, and Grizzop’s voice cut off abruptly. “You are, of course, invited to join him,” she said to the empty room, then laughed at her own joke and swept back upstairs, twirling her knife as she went.

**Author's Note:**

> *casually describes a kink.com set in my podcast fanfic and hopes nobody picks up on it*


End file.
